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Gael a-Haloni
The Gael a-Haloni, commonly translated as 'festival of the bounty', is an elven ritual and religious festival. The festival has, at its centre, a magical ritual that increases the bounty of the harvests of the forests and lands of the elven house. Written accounts The Sarkain travel writer Jean de Markais wrote an eyewitness account in his book On the Habits and Lifestyles of the Elves: I was permitted by the elder to view the Gael a-Haloni, or festival of bounty, though I was not permitted to take part (while this is a great honour for the elves, after viewing the festival I was rather relieved to have been spared). I was taken to a small grove at the heart of the House, which was paved with marble stones carved in intricate fashions, with a register of their written language that I was unfamiliar with. Then the elder entered, followed by the most skilled wizard of the house and her three apprentices. All were dressed in wondrous robes of leaf and vine, the like of which I have not seen since. After some words of praise to Yrda, the head wizard and her apprentices begun casting a spell. As the casting was complete, the carvings upon the marble floor glowed a bright blue-green. Then, as the apprentice wizards held the spell, the spectators rushed onto the marble floor and begun dancing. Now, in the courts and chambers of the human nations of Caledon, dancing is an orderly and proper affair; waltzes are done in time to music, and the proper steps are followed. In the taverns of the common man, dancing is more vivacious and spirited, though still civilised. The elves, however, shook and jumped and wriggled as if in trances, hopping from their feet and jumping in unison, then suddenly breaking into disorganised, individual thrashing. My guide told me that the dancing aids the ritual, whose goal is to build the magical energy necessary for a spell of monumental scale to be cast. I watched until night fell, then longer. The elves danced and chanted with frenzy, and as the second moon rose I witnessed the first elf to cease. She was a young girl, probably no more than forty of our years, whose dancing had been growing wearier since nightfall. She stopped, wavered, then collapsed. I nearly cried out for someone to help her but my guide insisted I watch. Immediately, another elf sprung from the crowd to take her place, dancing with fresh vigour and energy, as attendants removed the young girl and revived her, offering her bread and water. It was not even an hour before the next elf collapsed from exhaustion, at which point the young girl dove back in. I witnessed may times the elves would collapse from exhaustion, only to rejoin the ritual as soon as there was space. Over the ensuing days, some of the elves would become so exhausted that they would not rejoin, but these were few. Most would sleep briefly, eat sparsely, then join in once more. The apprentices, however, were not spared for the entire duration of the ritual. Attendants entered the circle to feed them and offer them water, which they always took but never for one instant broke the spell. For seven days and seven hours, the apprentices wove their great ritual, the elvish dancers moving in and out as space became free for them to enter their trances and frenzies. Over the week, I returned many times to the ritual grove to observe the progress, and each time noticed the glowing upon the marble floor glowing greater. For the last seven hours, I watched without break. I noticed that the dancing of the elves had become even more feverish and energetic, and this only grew as the end neared. An hour before the ritual was due to be finished, the master wizard returned, in her leafy robes once more, and paced around the circle with the critical eyes of a schoolmaster examining an essay, no doubt looking for flaws. By the time the master wizard stepped into the circle, the dancing had reached its height; no longer bound by such concerns as rhythm or aesthetics, the elves appeared to be in ecstatic seizures. As the master wizard entered the circle, she began chanting, and without fail or flaw the dancers chanted with her. The dancers ceased, their eyes closed and arms raised to the heavens. Then the master wizard begun her spell, her arms wreathed in green light of blinding power as she drained the energy stored within the ritual circle. As she released her spell, I felt the concussive wave pass over me. The trees bent and shook, birds took flight and I heard the distant wail of wolves in the perfect, impenetrable silence that followed. The dancers collapsed, in unison, and the master wizard bowed once (in the peculiar elven fashion), then left the circle. The moment her foot touched the ground outside the circle, the attendants then rushed in, removing the dancers to be revived, hopefully to their meals and rest. I feel privileged to have seen such an affair; the elves are of great power and deserve respect for their rituals and cultural oddities. I however have no wish to join this ritual, though I do not know whether to refuse the offer would be an offence to my hosts.